Harlowe #2
“Is that really the reason you didn’t want a relationship with me?” I ask, the information sinking in slowly. “Because of work? Not that I wasn't good enough? It wasn’t because you didn’t want me?” My voice sounds small and I hate the waver in it.
He gives me an incredulous look and brings a hand up to cup my cheek.
“You thought you weren’t good enough and I didn’t want you?
You have to be joking. I wanted you more than anything in the world.
I fucking fell in love with you, Lowe. The same night you fell in love with me, in the bathtub, with these damn flowers all over us,” he says, turning and grabbing his discarded pants, pulling a plumeria blossom out of his pocket, and holding it out to me.
I take it with trembling fingers. “What… I didn’t know…” I fumble over my words, but he goes on, saving me from my inability to speak after that proclamation that just blew my mind.
“I couldn’t do that love justice. As much as I wanted that forever we promised each other, it wouldn’t work in the world I’d created back home, where Olympus came first and everything else a distant second.
You couldn’t come second to anything. You deserved to be first. You deserved to be my queen, and if I couldn’t give you that, I didn’t fucking deserve you at all.
So instead of giving you the scraps of what was leftover, I broke your heart and tore mine out completely, locked it up, and let it fester away, all while being the fuckboy who doesn’t do attachments until I saw you again last month and realized I’d fucked it all up.
When I found out about Hendricks…” he pauses and shakes his head, looking down at his hands where he grips my thighs like he can’t find the words.
He looks up, his eyes endless wells of brokenness.
“Everything else in my world narrowed. I realized there’s something more important than Olympus, more important than work.
I wanted to know this kid we made, more than anything.
This kid that you raised all by yourself because I was a selfish bastard who gave you no other choice. ”
He wipes tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and cups my face in his big hands, staring at me with a look so intense it makes me squirm under the attention.
“You have your psycho eyes on right now. They look like quicksilver and maybe you’re going to lock me in a closet and keep me as a pet,” I say to diffuse the intensity and the revelation that has burst like the clouds outside, rain now pelting the windows of the penthouse in earnest.
He laughs and drops his hands. “I deserve that. I’m being creepy. I do want to lock you up and keep you forever.”
He looks down and makes a noise that is all male, his big hands going to my waist, making me feel small under his touch. His thumbs trace the undersides of my breasts, brushing over my nipples, making me arch into the contact.
“Don’t scare me while you touch me like that,” I joke, my words becoming a sigh as he rolls my nipples until they’re hard peaks.
“You’re a very dangerous woman, Lowe. You make me want to do and say all sorts of things that would scare the shit out of us both.”
“Like what?” I ask, breathless as his touch roams my skin, his lips and tongue joining between words.
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this, every nerve ending is craving the attention, needing, and wanting.
I lean back on my elbows, shivering under his skilled touch that still knows my body so well as he travels lower.
“I was serious earlier—about babies. How many do you want?” I look down at him as he reaches the apex of my thighs, kneeling on the ground as my legs hang over the edge of the bed, the question asked against my sensitive folds.
I thought he was kidding, but, maybe incredulously, he was being honest. He holds my gaze as his tongue parts me and he laps against my center, licking all the way to my clit and we both shudder with the contact, him groaning and me whimpering.
“More,” I answer, to both his question and his action. More of his gray-eyed babies and more of his damn skilled tongue.
“Sweeter than I even remembered. Still so responsive and fucking dripping for me. Such a good girl.” He slips a finger inside of me. “Just one more?” he asks, stroking too gently to get me there and smiling wickedly because he knows it.
“Another,” I pant, my hips rolling, looking for more friction from him.
“Two more.” He slips a second finger inside and strokes against my spot with the speed and pressure he knows I like best. My head rolls and I pant. He breathes against my clit but doesn't give me what he knows I want, playing with me.
I grab his hair and pull hard. “More,” I demand, throwing my own head back and rocking my hips against his hand, chasing what I need.
“Fine, more babies it is.” He stops talking and drops his mouth to my clit, doing something sinful with his lips and tongue at the same time he presses hard against the spot inside, sending me over the edge.
I lose my mind, my hips bucking up against his face, and my screams echoing around the large room.
He strokes me as my release continues, letting me ride his face and fingers until I’m spent and breathless, delirious with the heady relief that only he can provide.
Tears have tracked down my cheeks again. It’s been so long since someone has touched me, made me come, I've forgotten how good it can feel, and I’m surprised that Zander remembers my body so well to elicit this kind of response so easily.
He stands and removes his boxer-briefs in a fluid movement and I marvel at the electric beauty of him, the impressive length and girth he strokes now as he looks down at me sprawled at the end of his bed, feeling satisfied and still wanting more.
“You make me crazy with how good you taste, Lowe. The sounds you make are heaven. You feel so good, everywhere I touch. How do you get better every time I have my hands on you? I can’t get enough.
” He roughly yanks open a drawer on his nightstand and pulls out a condom, ripping the foil and rolling it down his cock.
“Tell me when we can start making more babies and I can fill you with my cum again.”
I scoot away from him and up the bed. “You’re talking a lot about babies tonight. Give it some time. Let’s see how you do with Hendricks first. And with me. Now come fuck me, it’s been too long for me and I don't remember what it’s like.”
He kneels on the bed and crawls up my body, his eyes intense as he takes in every bit of me.
“How long has it been, Lowe?” He pulls my arms above me and holds my wrists together in one of his fists.
The possessive, jealous note in his tone is an obvious double standard given his own fuckboy ways and the myriad of women he has taken to bed.
“You were the last, Zander,” I whisper as he hovers above me, with his face so close to mine we’re breathing the same air.
His face goes even more possessive, though a tender look passes through his storm cloud eyes, filling them with a mercurial gleam in the moonlit room. He lets go of my wrists to stroke my cheek. “You’ve always been mine, even when you hated me.”
He notches himself at my entrance and pushes in agonizingly slow.
My pussy is wet, but still having to stretch to fit him and I moan, arching my back at the near intrusion.
He pulls out a bit and can slide in easier this time, and we both groan in satisfaction.
I place my hand on Zander’s face and stare into his eyes, which look so much like my beautiful son’s. He deserves to know my reasons.
“It’s why I had the baby. I wouldn’t erase that one little piece of you I was able to keep when you shut me out. I didn’t want to lose my forever with you, even if I couldn’t have you.”
“Fuck, Lowe.” He drops his face to my neck, his arms encircling my back and pulling me tight to his body. “You have me now, forever.”
He rises to his knees and pulls me up with him, so I’m straddling his lap, and kisses me like he’s starving.
Like I’m air and he’s drowning. Like he can't get enough of me. This isn’t just a joining of our bodies after years apart, I realize, it’s a homecoming.
Zander still feels like home, and being in his arms, our bodies fitting tightly together, has the same feeling of home I felt years ago with him in the Maldives.
I blink in recognition and look into his eyes, seeing that same spark of awareness, that same kindling of home that flares brightly for him as well.
I kiss him again, never wanting this feeling to end.
I can feel the elusive orgasm building slowly as my hips rock, his hands moving me just right.
I push a hand into his hair, the other grips his back, nails sinking into the muscle and holding tight as I ride him hard, pushing the spiraling tension to a breaking point, my whimpers caught by his kisses.
I tip my head back, hair tumbling behind me, breathing hard, loving how he feels, and how we move together.
He lowers his mouth to my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spot below my ear, sending a jolt of electricity through me that pushes me over the edge.
I scream in ecstasy, lightning flashing behind my eyelids as the storm breaks outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.
A boom of thunder rattles the panes of glass, joining in my cries of pure delirium as Zander keeps our bodies moving throughout my release.
Rain pelts the glass in torrents now, turning the room darker, shadows swimming around us.